FRENCH QUARTER

My lips were rooted; in moist sealed bliss, he was shaved and perfumed; balls thrusting a velvet kiss. He was in the position of dominance; I was flat on my back, I gave careless head; my lips running with jac. We were in the French Quarter; he was the main act, the crowd cheering loudly; and chanting attack. He picked me as chosen; to give them a show, I remember so clearly; the crush of the front row. We pushed to the limits; the cell phones did flash; the patrons took pictures; of my thirsting ass. By the time we were finished; the mob was going crazy, cocks in hand; cum flying in frenzy. It was 2010; the last day of Lent, Mardi Gras was winding down; I was young and Hell bent. Now as I grow older; I think of my wild reckless ways, they bring me comfort; on these stark Winter days.